


The Weight of Secrets

by mottal



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Island - Freeform, Lots of Angst, i have a thing for Oliver being sad in front of people okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:17:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mottal/pseuds/mottal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knew Oliver Queen came back a changed man. But did they ever consider what had actually happened to the kid billionaire on the island? People ask a lot of questions, but it seems they never asked enough. After being poisoned and collapsing at a publicized event, people finally start to see what really happened to Oliver on that island.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am terrible with summaries. This is my first Arrow fic, so sorry if it's ooc or something. I just couldn't get it out of my head. I have a lot of Oliver feelings and people really knowing some of the stuff to happened to him on the island hits me in the heart strings. This kinda came out of nowhere for me?? But it has potential for more chapters, so i'll probably write more. 
> 
> Hope you guys like it. :D

Oliver had been feeling funny all day. A feeling in his gut, drowsiness, being in a constant state of cold. But in one of his stubborn moments, he’d decided it was nothing and to just work through it. He’d been through worse, he could go through a day being sick! He’d been ignoring his duties as CEO of Queen Consolidated lately due to his...other occupation. And had decided to devote this whole day, and night, to just being CEO. He had to attend some galla for something or another. His condition was on a steep decline all day, only getting worse. Enough so that it had those around him questioning if he was well enough to attend the galla, he just waved them off saying he was fine. He was Oliver Queen. He was always fine. Except when he wasn't. 

The car hit a bump on the way to the event, Oliver felt a bit like spilling his lunch on the carpet. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to come, he hadn’t been sick like this for a long time, not since his second year on the island, and never before had it snuck up on him so fast. His eyelids fluttered shut and he tipped his head back to rest on the soft leather seat, he didn't even notice the car had stopped until his door was opened by Dig. He, of course, immediately noticed something was wrong. He was Dig, of course he noticed. Oliver could hear people milling around outside, camera’s clicking, interviewers talking.

“Sir…” in a softer voice, one only for Oliver, “Oliver, are you sure you’re alright?” 

Oliver waved him off, “I’m fine, Dig,” he lied. 

“Okay, but just to let you know, I will drag you out of here if I think you’re about to hack on the carpet.” Dig smirked. 

Oliver put a hand on the car door to steady himself and stepped out, “That’s good to know, Dig” he smirked, but it was weak. Dig gave him a concerned mother hen look. 

As soon as he stepped out of the car he was met with a dull roar of voices and questions.

“Mr.Queen! Mr. Queen! What do you think of your mother’s acquittal ?” “Oliver! Mr. Queen! Did your family pay off members of the jury?” “What are you doing to help citizens of the Glades?” 

Dig led him through the mess of people and reporters, all of them asking obnoxious questions the whole time. His sickness seemed to be hitting a peak, the voices combined into a dull thump in his head, his world began to tilt. Dig, noticing something was off, turned around. Then Oliver hit a point where he was sure this wasn’t sickness, red hot pain shot through his spine, right up to his skull. He let out a groan and felt the ground rush up to meet him. He heard people shouting and more camera’s clicking. 

Dig kneeled beside him, “Oliver! Oliver, are you all right?”

Oliver tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled sound. Another hot pain cascaded over him, worse than the first. He thrashed, groaning in pain, he felt Dig pinning his shoulders. Dig? Was it Dig? He couldn’t remember, something was wrong with his head. Where was he? The pain pooled in his head and suddenly he was somewhere else. A forest. And it wasn’t Dig, holding him down, it was Slade. 

“Kid! What is wrong with you?” 

Oliver whimpered, “Slade? What? Why-You’re dead.”

“Do I look dead to you, kid?” 

And suddenly Slade’s face was on fire and he was screaming, clutching his face. Oliver felt his pain, and he screamed. Over and over again until he was hoarse, “I’m sorry...I’m sorry...Shado, she’s dead I’m sorry. It’s all my fault, all my fault.” 

And then Slade was gone, replaced with Dig, who looked terrified, but...he was on the island? Oliver’s breathing was ragged, “Dig? Why are you on the island? You need to leave, Dig, they’ll hurt you, Dig...The soldiers. They’ll torture you, like me. Dig...Leave…” He was mumbling by the end. Another pain, but this time it was everywhere, and he was somewhere else, yet again. He was tied to a post, with Billy in front of him, torturing him. He screamed for him to stop, a mix with the occasional brave moments of “I won’t tell you where he is!” 

He could vaguely feel his body beginning to shake, but he was too far into his memories. Slade and Shado stood in front of him and he begged them to forgive him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should have saved you. I’m sorry…” 

And then Ivo was making him choose again, “Take me! Don’t shoot them! Please. No! Shado!” A new face appeared, his father, “Dad? What are you doing? NOOOO!” He felt the resound of the bullet deep in his bones. Sara was dying again, and he screamed her name, was begging. He rambled on and on. Everything was blurring into a big mass in his head, he couldn’t determine what was real and what was happening or what had already happened. 

There was Dig again, “Dammit! Where’s that ambulance, he’s been poisoned! Something!” He heard sirens in the distance. 

Then the pain came and didn’t stop, he screamed, all of his memories came in flashes and he started shaking violently, seizing. It seemed to last forever, when in reality it was only a few moments. Finally the flashes died down and he stopped shaking. His body lay limp on the ground, his eyes barely open. He felt the paramedics hand’s on him, heard them telling people to clear the way and get the cameras away. And then he wasn't there. He was on the island and Slade and Shado were next to him. 

“Gave us quite the scare, kid.” 

“You’re not real. You’re dead. You’re both dead because of me.” 

Shado gave him an odd look, “What are you talking about, Oliver? We’re right here.” 

“I’m sorry,” He said, and then the light was sucked out of the world and took the pain with it.

\-------->

The first thing he noticed upon waking up was the pounding in his skull and a bad taste in his mouth. His eyes creaked open and he almost couldn't believe the pain, he was obviously in a hospital, so he must be on meds. They didn't seem to be helping. He felt someone squeeze his hand, he shifted his head to see the person next to him. His mother. And Thea in the chair next to her.  
“Oliver, oh, Oliver. We were so worried!” His mother’s eyes searched his. Something was off about her. He saw pity.

“Ollie!” It was Thea. “I’m so glad you’re awake…” 

They both looked at him like he was about to spew out the words that would answer their every question. 

“Water,” he croaked.

“Oh! Of course,” his mother grabbed the cup of water off the side table and held it to his lips. He didn't really like being treated like a baby, but he appreciated it. The water felt like it might’ve been the greatest thing he’d ever tasted. Better than any alcohol. 

Thea looked at him, she had the same look as his mother. “Ollie…” she sounded sad. Something was not right. “I thought you said you were on that island alone.” The accusation caught him off guard, his stomach clenched, what did that have to do with anything. 

He plastered on a smirk, laughing a bit, “What are you talking about? I was…” Thea cut him off, “Don’t lie to me, Ollie.” Her eyes were stern and sad at the same time. He flicked his gaze to his mother, she looked at him sadly. 

Scrunching his eyebrows together he asked, “What does this have to do with anything, Thea?”

“When you were poisoned-” 

“Wait, I was _poisoned?” _And he’d thought he had a cold.__

“Yes, and I’m sure the doctors will explain it to you in detail later,” She sounded angry. 

“Thea…” Moira said in a warning voice.

“Yeah...sorry. It’s just, Ollie, I thought we weren’t going to lie to each other anymore…” 

Oliver scooted upwards in the bed, which did not feel particularly good. “I still have no idea what you’re talking about.” His mind was foggy and he really just felt like resting. What ever that poison was, it did one hell of a number on him. 

“When you were poisoned...You were talking and...screaming.” he heard his mother take a sharp intake of breath. Oh no, what had he said? 

Thea continued, “You were talking about people named Slade and Shado, and how you were sorry and their deaths were your fault.” She sounded choked up, tears shone in her eyes. Oliver wore a mask. His face was blank. No. He’d spent so much keeping this secret. “You talked about Sara and...Dad.” He looked at his mother; She knew. She knew he’d saw dad shoot himself. Thea didn’t. And she never would. “You told Dig to get of the island, that the soldiers would hurt him and torture him…” Her voice broke, “like they did you.” 

He went into a mental shutdown. No. No no no no. And then his brain picked up on something. His mother and Thea looked at him, possibly hoping for him to disprove it, say he was dazed and none of it was true. But he couldn’t. And one thing nagged at him. 

“You two weren’t there...How do you know I said all that?” 

They both looked away, his blood went cold. Maybe Dig told them, maybe…

“Oliver,” It was his mom, her voice was soft, “You collapsed at a highly publicized event...There were a lot of camera’s rolling.” His heart skipped a beat. 

“It’s all over the news, Ollie,” Thea’s voice, but he barely heard her. Everyone knew. Everyone would ask him _questions._

“Can you two leave,” His voice was devoid of emotion. “I’m tired and want to rest.” He sounded robotic. 

“Ollie…” Thea started.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, Thea.” There was venom in his voice. It was times like these Thea really realized that the Oliver that came back was a different Oliver than the one who boarded the Queen’s Gambit. 

They started for the door, but before going their mother stooped down to kiss him on the cheek, “I love you, Oliver. We both do. Never forget that.” His gaze latched onto his hands, not looking her in the eyes. He heard the door swing shut. What was he going to do? Everyone _knew. _On top of it possibly damaging his being The Arrow secret, he just...Didn’t want to talk about it. He hadn’t even told Diggle and Felicity the whole story. And now the whole world would be demanding answers, a story, why he had lied.__

He grabbed the remote off the side table and switched on the T.V. , no clue why he was doing it. Some vague, dumb hope his mother and sister had been lying. 

“The main story today, of course, its Oliver Queen’s collapse at the Funding Galla,” The anchor had pity in his eyes, Oliver could see it. He wanted to strangle the man through the T.V. A women started speaking, “Yes, Rob, there’s really not words to describe it, It seems Mr. Queen went through quite a lot more on that island than previously stated…” The man, Rob, Nodded, “We’re going to show the footage, a warning that the material is a bit sensitive.”

Oliver’s heartbeat picked up, why would they even show that footage? The media was made up of a bunch of sharks. 

He saw himself collapse with a groan of pain, the Diggle’s voice. _“Oliver! Oliver, are you alright?”_ It was so surreal seeing it like this. He didn’t remember much of it himself. He saw himself trying to speak at first, it just being a strangled groan, then him thrashing in pain. People were muttering, a few people calling 911. Then, _“Slade? What? Why-You’re dead.”_ People muttered in confusion, cameras clicked rapidly, flashes lighting the screen periodically. He heard a “what did he just say?” Then he was screaming in pain, then screaming Slade’s name, he sounded so...terrified. He couldn't believe this was him. 

_“I’m sorry...I’m sorry...Shado, she’s dead I’m sorry. It’s all my fault, all my fault.”_ Oddly enough people quieted down, shushing each other. Information vultures, Oliver thought angrily. 

_“Dig? Why are you on the island? You need to leave, Dig, they’ll hurt you, Dig...The soldiers. They’ll torture you, like me. Dig...Leave…”_ His voice was disoriented, a mere mumble at the end. Some people gasped in surprise. Oliver wanted to shove Arrows in their eyes. Why had this happened? 

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should have saved you. I’m sorry…” _Oliver clutched his hospital sheets.__

_“Take me! Don’t shoot them! Please. No! Shado!” _He squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to look.__

_“Dad? What are you doing? NOOOO!” _He heard the gunshot in his mind.  
He heard himself screaming about Sara, he could only hope everyone thought he was screaming about the ship going down. __

Then there was Dig, _“Dammit! Where’s that ambulance, he’s been poisoned! Something!”_

He was looking again, his body was convulsing violently, the camera had a good view of it all, some vulture got in close and apparently stayed there. The paramedics got there and started working on him, they tried to shoo the cameramen away, but to no avail. 

_“You’re not real. You’re dead. You’re both dead because of me.” _It wasn't a whisper, it was loud and clear, like he’d been trying to forcefully reassure himself. Oliver wanted to scream.__

_“I’m sorry.” _And the video was done, he’d passed out. The last words echoed in his head. The anchors were on again. A heat rose in Oliver. He barely noticed his eyes burning, he chucked the remote at the T.V., and true to his abilities, it hit it’s mark. It cracked the screen and the crappy Hospital T.V. sputtered dead. A tear slipped from his eye. Then more came. A nurse barged in to see what the noise was about, she looked at the broken T.V., then to Oliver, whose eyes were wet. He pressed his palms to his eyes and dried them. Then true to his nature, he said, in a perfectly put together voice, “I’ll pay for that.” No sign that he’d been crying.__

The nurse just nodded, mouth slightly open, and turned around and left. 

Oliver leaned back into his bed, let out a sigh, and closed his eyes. He didn't need this. He didn't need the worst five years of his life to be the main news story. He didn't need people prying into his own personal hell. But they would. He knew they would. 

He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep. He really needed to do something about this. But he was so drained right now. 

He fell asleep to a movie of his memories and a haunting melody of _“I’m sorry’s” ___


	2. Atlas

Oliver hated hospitals. If he never had to step foot in another hospital it would be too soon. Nothing good ever happened in one, either you were in there for something bad, or someone you cared about was. Bad omens. 

At the moment he was having a particularly awkward moment with Dig and Felicity. Dig was sitting in a none too comfortable looking chair next to the bed, and even though there was another chair available, Felicity was perched on the edge of his bed. They were both hovering like overprotective mother hens. They were just staring at him, the tension was palpable, it was so thick Oliver could probably slice it with one of his arrows. The problem being no one really knew what to say, “Soo, Oliver, you seem to have went through hell on that island and may have PTSD and severe mental trauma but have been leading everyone to think you’re fine. Wanna talk about it?” Ah, no. What was there to say, really? Dig and Felicity were two of the people closest to knowing what had happened to him on the island before his little episode. But now…? They’re probably just realizing how much Oliver really kept from them. Wondering what he was still keeping from them. 

But the thing was, it wasn’t really that he couldn’t tell them. They, of all people, were no risk of knowing what really happened, it couldn’t harm his secret having them know anything about the island, because they already knew his secret. He trusted them. The problem was that he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to talk about it. It seemed everyone took his silence as a personal offence, but honestly, he just didn’t want to. He didn’t need to re-live that pain. 

“Sooo…” Felicity attempted to break the awkward tension, but, knowing her, she was bound to just make it worse. “Are we gonna talk about your mental issues, orrr?” There it is. 

“Felicity…” Diggle said in a soft reproachful voice. 

“No, she’s right, Dig. I mean. We can’t avoid the elephant in the room forever.” Oliver looked him straight in the eyes as he talked. This was the Oliver Dig knew. One of, if not the strongest person he knew. 

“Why-” Felicity stopped mid sentence, then started up again, “Why didn’t you ever tell us, Oliver?” 

Oliver’s eyes flicked down and then back up again, it would be easier to just tell the truth. He was sick of lies, and if he didn’t have to tell one, he wouldn’t. “I didn’t want to.” He said, matter of factly. They both looked at him, saying nothing, perhaps not knowing what to say. 

Oliver shrugged, “When I talk about it, when I think about it, it’s like...It’s like I’m re-living it again…” He was really feeling the awkwardness now. He loathed talking about his feelings. 

Dig nodded in understanding, “And now the media’s going to be all over you about it, everyone will be asking questions…” 

Oliver looked at his hands, “yeah.” He felt very vulnerable. 

Felicity reached over and lay a hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay, Oliver, you don’t have to talk about it to us. We’re not forcing you. But you’re going to have to tell the press something, or else they’ll never leave you alone.” 

Her words were just what he needed, there was no pressure from Dig and Felicity. Although he would much rather tell them than a million strangers. “I’ll tell you guys.” They stared at him in amazement, “When I get out of here, though... It’s kind of a long story.” 

“Are you sure, Oliver? You don’t have to…” Said Dig. 

The corner of Oliver’s mouth tipped up, “I know I don’t have to. I want to. Besides, Felicity was right. I have to tell the press something. I may as well get some storytelling practice in with you two,” He grinned. In all truthfulness, if anyone was going to know first, it was going to be his friends. Not the damn press. Not that he’d tell those vultures everything. Maybe bits of the truth that matched up with what had been on that damn video tape. 

Right at that moment a nurse walked in, “Okay, visiting hours are up, it’s time for you guys to head on home.” 

“Bye, guys.” Oliver didn’t want them to go. He didn’t want to spend the night in this stupid hospital alone. 

After they left the nurse stuck around for a few, meddling around with his medical equipment. Oliver didn’t know what she was doing and didn’t much care. Before leaving she said, “Need anything else, hun?” There was pity in her eyes. Of course. 

“No,” Oliver said curtly. He wondered if this useless pity from strangers, from everyone, actually, was ever going to end. Out of all the things, that was the one he could stand the least. The nurse looked a tad bit offended before she left. Oliver felt kind of bad, she was just trying to help. I pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, he wanted to scream. This was just one, big, never ending nightmare. How was he supposed to keep up his strong emotionless front with all this pitty being thrown his way? 

When it was time for “lights out” which, by the way, was absolutely childish. What was this, summer camp? Oliver obediently rolled over to go to sleep, this was his second day in this damn hospital, but he was still feeling the affects of the poison keenly. He was tired. Usually, when he was injured he pushed through it, like when his mother shot him he’d basically rolled off the table and went back to work. But this poison...There was something about it. It was like it was still in his system, affecting him. He couldn’t shake it off like he did everything else. He closed his eyes and immediately dropped off.

\---------------------->

His eyes snapped open and he bolted up with a barely muffled scream. His body was covered in cold sweat. A nightmare. He’d been nightmare-free for several months now. But with all this thinking and dredging things up, it really wasn’t doing good things for him. He laid his sweaty hand on the cool metal of the hospital bed rail, trying to catch his breath. Closing his eyes he breathed deeply, in and out, in and out, in and out…

He cleared his mind and breathed. Something Shado had taught him, meditation. The thought of her sent a pang through his chest and shattered his concentration on nothing. Sighing, he swung his legs over the bed. He was sick of laying around all the time, he had to do something. And he had the means to, he wasn’t stuck here, he was The Arrow, for God’s sake. He also couldn’t leave and not come back, either. His family would worry. Some fresh air, that was all he needed. 

So, just a few minutes later he was perched on the roof of the hospital with a mediocre cup of coffee and a bag of chips he’d pillaged from the vending machines. They shut down hours ago, but he had his ways. It was chilly, as he’d known it would be, he’d brought along the coat he’d been wearing when he was poisoned and a scarf his mother had brought him, just in case. It clashed terribly with the hospital slacks and slippers he was wearing. He had refused to wear that awful hospital gown. He hadn’t had to argue much, money privileges. 

He sat there pondering everything until the light started to invade the darkness and the birds started singing. He wanted to stay forever. He didn’t want to deal with his problems. For the first time since the island he didn’t have a plan, didn’t want to face his problems head on. He just wanted them to go away. So many things needed done. Finding who’d poisoned him and kicking their ass was foremost among them. He decided to stay just to see the sunrise, to hell with anyone looking for him. He’d finished his coffee and chips long ago and his nose had seemingly turned into a red-tipped ice cube. But it was quiet, and he was relaxed, and alone. So he would stay. He actually had no clue as to why it was so important for him to see this sunrise. There’d been plenty on the island, and despite how hellish it had been, the sunrises had been absolutely beautiful. The island had been beautiful. In the rare moments of peace he could appreciate it, the serene beauty of it. There was a lot of things about the island he did like. Especially the times after Fyers and his men had been wiped out, the peaceful times he’d spent with Slade and Shado. A particular time came to mind and made him smile. 

Things had been slow, it seemed like they were alone on the island. They gradually started to relax, well, Shado and he at least, Slade was never quite relaxed. After some particularly brutal training, although it was affective, Slade had even complimented him. A true rarity. Shado suggested they go down to the beach and take a break from training, Slade had been hesitant at first, a slew of “what if’s” streaming from his mouth. But eventually Shado convinced him, like only she could. So they went down to the beach, Slade secretly pocketing a bottle of wine he’d pilfered from Fyer’s men. And they sat on the beach and talked and Slade taught Oliver to skip stones, scoffing all the while at the fact that Oliver didn’t know how. His excuse being he could never quite get the hang of it but after being taught Slade’s “Super secret military grade secret rock skipping technique” he had it down pat. 

After that they sat and watched the sunset and drank the entirety of the wine. Lucky for them nothing had gone down that night, if it had they may have had a bit of trouble defending themselves. It was the best memory he had of the island. It may have even made it up there with some of his all-time best memories. 

As he recalled the memory the sun was rising, present time, and he was smiling despite himself. Maybe there was a metaphor in there somewhere about the sun setting in his memory and rising in the present. Maybe there was some deeper meaning behind his line of thinking. But at the moment he was just reveling in the momentary peace and reprieve, the beautiful sunrise, and the new day. Despite there being problems he didn’t want to face, Oliver Queen would never want to not have to face a new day. It was a sign of life. That he was alive. 

\------------------------------>

It was time to leave the hospital. And now, facing the prospect of the press, Oliver was finding those scratchy hospital blankets pretty inviting. He could practically hear the cameras clicking and the snotty reporter voices. His mother had tried to cajole him into going out the back door of the hospital, but he wasn’t a big fan of seeming weak in front of the masses. He would stand tall and stride out the front door and take whatever the world threw at him. 

“Oliver, it’s time to go.” His mother was standing at the door with Thea, Oliver could see Dig just outside the door. 

His mom came over to his side, “Oliver, honey. You can always go out the back way, you know.” Her eyes swept his face. He didn’t look up, he didn’t want to see the pity there. 

In what seemed like no time at all, they were standing in front of the front doors of the hospital. Dig was in front of him and Thea and his mom were on each side of him. He felt hopelessly pathetic. Thea squeezed his arm, saying nothing. The silent reassurance was nice. 

Pushing the doors open he was instantly blinded, at first he thought it was the sun in his eyes, then he heard the insistent click click clicking of cameras. Vultures, he thought, not for the first time that day. Dig was in front of him, spreading open the path of paparazzi for him like he was Mosses parting the red sea. In a different situation Oliver would’ve smiled a bit at that thought. Oliver kept going, loath to let these people dictate his mood, he would be okay, he would get through this like he had every time, just had to keep moving-  
“Mr. Queen? Mr. Queen?” The first paparazzi he actually heard clearly over the jumble of voices, he was close to him. “Who are Slade and Shado? Why are their deaths your fault? Did you kill them?” 

Oliver stepped dead in his tracks, he thought he’d been prepared for the questions. Somehow, he hadn’t been prepared for something so blunt. Something so utterly true. Without moving a muscle, Oliver’s eyes slid over to the man who’d spoke. The man seemed to be terrified at his own brazenness, or maybe it was the look on Oliver Queens face. Oliver felt a pit in his stomach. He had, hadn’t he? He’d killed them. Shado, he hadn’t meant to, but his choice had meant her death. Slade...Slade, he’d had no other choice. In that moment, standing a few short feet away from his car, surrounded by numerous paparazzi, his family and friend, he didn’t feel like any of it was real. He felt like he was back on that island all those years ago, a kid begging for his comrades life. The bullet slicing through the night. He was back in that boat, an arrow in his hand, feeling the tip crunch through his close friends eye. 

He felt a tug on his shirt sleeve, it was insistent and gentle, the kind of touch that never happened on the island. 

“Ollie…” the voice was laced thickly with concern, a voice that he felt like he hadn’t heard in years. “Ollie, c’mon lets go to the car.” He was snapped back into reality so hard he feared whiplash. Blinking, he realized he was still staring at the mans face, how long had he been staring? Turning his head, he saw Thea’s hand in his arm, her touch was the one that’d brought him back. Nodding silently he kept moving. Things were quiet, the paparazzi were all staring with varying expressions, all stone silent. He wondered what he could’ve done to make even these vultures shut their mouths. 

Sliding smoothly into the car, avoiding Dig’s eyes all the while, he came to a sudden realization. There was a wet streak running down his face. He brought a surprisingly steady hand to his face and was met with cool wetness at his fingertips. Ah, so that’s why they’d all acted like that. He’d cried. Oliver wanted to scream until he was hoarse. He’d told himself no more showing weakness, and look what had happened. Why was he slipping all of a sudden? Why was his resolve crumbling? His mother and Thea slipped into the car behind him. He studiously gazed out the window, avoiding their eyes.

“Oliver…” His mother started. 

“Don’t. Not right now.” He felt like if he said anymore any resolve he had left would crumble completely. 

He supposed it was only logical. One person can only be so strong for so long. He wasn’t Atlas, he couldn’t hold the entire world on his shoulders without cracking. In fact, he’d been cracking for so long now, only now were the cracks appearing on the surface. He wondered if it had went on without any of this happening how long it would have taken him to be crushed completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...it took me forever to update. Actually the majority of this chapter was sitting around finished for a long time, just never got around to it. I finally got some inspiration back tho and have most of the story plotted out. 
> 
> Also, another thing. About this story, i started when i was about half way with S1, and now it's S2, so this story is kinda gonna be a bit of canon divergence.


End file.
